


wrong direction

by radioteeth



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, this was just a quick lil warm up piece but it kinda vibed so im posting it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioteeth/pseuds/radioteeth
Summary: party poison heads out for a supply run. they do not relax. || written for a one-word prompt on tumblr.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	wrong direction

**Author's Note:**

> WHEEZES this is my first thing im posting here i reallyyyyyy should be doing chem homework but im not. love and light <3 my tumblr is @radioteeth i am making a high school au by popular demand because shit got 300 notes overnight go bully me on there.

Exhaustion pulls at every part of Poison, they _swear_ they can see color bleeding from their hands, fading into the pale morning light.

This is the first solo run they’ve gone on in far too long, an old contact from when they and Kobra had first made their way into the desert, someone who refuses to trust people they haven’t known at least two years for _some goddamn reason_ , and Kobra hadn’t met this chick earlier, neither had Ghoul or Jet or anyone _else_ they _fucking_ know, so here they are.

Alone.

… _Ish_.

They’ve got Mousekat, at least, but it can’t exactly talk, all it can do is watch them from the passenger seat. The light hits it from behind - _behind?_ \- filtering in through the back window - _wrong way!_

__

__

East, east, _east_ -

They’ve been heading the opposite direction this entire time-

They swing the Trans Am around, grab their sunglasses from the Mousekat’s nose and slide them on, wincing as they very nearly jab their eye. 

God, they’re fucked, they’re totally screwed. They can feel their nerves building up again - _so alone!_ \- and they grip the steering wheel hard enough their knuckles turn white, step on the gas, the pedal seems to scrape the floor.

If Ghoulie were here, he’d tell them to relax- but he’s not, and relaxing sounds so fucking stupid when the Trans Am is flying over the road at a hundred miles per hour, when there’s static humming in their ears and tears pricking at the corners of their eyes and when they can’t lose time, they _can’t_ ,

They heave out a breath. 

_Relax._


End file.
